Glass Mountain
by korel.c
Summary: for my muse; a schoolboy attempts to ascend a glass mountain to save a Prince from being alone. A Klaine fairytale AU; warnings for swear-words and minor suggestive themes. And slash.


**A/N: **For my muse, who lamented that there are so many AU's of Kurtofsky, and why aren't there more AU's of nicer pairings? ...Bit hypocritical, that, considering she does ship Kurtofsky, but I obliged anyway. Here is Glass Mountain, a Klaine fairytale AU. Warnings for gritty fairytale-ism and swear-words. None of this belongs to me, and neither does the fairytale, though of course parts of it do. No caps and interesting grammar, but that's all on purpose. Spelling mistakes are not on purpose.

And there are Dalton references. So I don't own those, either.

* * *

**Glass Mountain**

**

* * *

**_'once upon a time there was a glass mountain at the top of which was a castle made of the purest gold...'_

"please, sir, please tell me more," the schoolboy said, his hands gripping at the fabric of his trousers.

"aha, you don't need to call me sir," said the man, with twinkling eyes. "i am your father, after all."

"but-" the boy said, his eyes downcast. "-but-"

"yes, you have been away long," the man said. "i shall forgive, and continue then. for you are a fine young lad."

the schoolboy smiled.

"i am not sure i want to tell you this story. you are a happy-hearted boy -"

oh, if only his father knew-!

"-strong, and well-grown. and i would not see your mother broken-hearted as you lay dead and unmoving in the canyon where the other men and women lie."

"but, father," said the schoolboy, and the man's heart swelled as it broke, "i wish to...i wish to overcome it, for the prince's sake."

"...yes," the father said. "i shall continue, then."

once upon a time there was a glass mountain at the top of which was a castle made of the purest gold. in front of the castle there grew an apple-tree on which there were golden apples.

anyone who picked an apple gained admittance to the castle; and there in a silver room sat an enchanting Prince of surpassing fairness and beauty.

"-and fashion sense," the man said, coughing into his hand.

he was as rich as he was alluring, for the cellars of the castle were full of precious stones, and great chests of the finest gold lined the hallways. when he fought in the courtyards, his swords were of the finest steel and make, and some said they were forged by a smith to the east, where the sun rose red over their villages.

"i would like to cross blades with him," the schoolboy said, his eyes shining.

"can i persuade you to stay?" the man asked, his wise old eyes sad. "can i persuade you to stay?"

seven years ago a witch appeared with her hair as a sheep's wool goes golden. her manner brusque, she informed the kingdom that once seven years were over and no man nor woman had claimed the Prince, she would have him for her torture routines. and as all knew, this Witch had already claimed Princess after Princess, forcing them to work until they were as strong as any man, and terribly...forward. unless they broke, where she discarded them. to create her better chances she raised him up on a glass mountain and planted an apple tree with a lock of her hair.

the schoolboy, for he was kind and strong and brave of heart stood. "is the prince alone, in his high castle? does he have servants, friends, with which to serve and play with him?"

and the man shed one tear as he whispered. "he is alone."

* * *

The Glass Mountain.

blaine stood at the very foot of it, tapping it gently with his fist. the material gave not under his strength, and caught it not, either. though the slope were shallow and one could imagine that one could walk up it, a single step would send one sliding back down.

for miles around as he had approached he could smell the stench of desperation, despair, and the deaths of the many brave men and women who wished to climb to the very top.

their skeletons and their armor lay strewn about them.

'many knights came from afar to try their luck,' his father had said. 'but it was in vain that they climbed the mountain.'

blaine could see the proof of this with his own eyes.

the dying groaned as they tried to crawl to the mountain again, their broken limbs causing them a great deal of pain. kind-hearted, blaine stopped to help each one of them, easing their grief and despair, and for some of them, he held their hand as they said farewell to the world.

and he faced the mountain again, and he quailed on the inside. he raised his eyes to the very top, and there was a flash of brown hair and pale skin.

blaine understood then, as his heart soared and fire and light scoured him from the inside (as his mother had described around the hearth in winter). he understood then why men and women would keep coming to find this broken boy on top of a glass mountain.

who could not, with that beauty to drive them forward?

in four more days the seven years would be at an end.

blaine prowled the mountain's foot, seeking a way up. there were a graveyard of horse bones and great deals of armour, but not one live horse. there were armaments of the finest steel and brass and silver, swords that gleamed light and absorbed it, but not one did more than glance off the mountainside.

blaine did not despair, but with each minute that passed, each inch that the gold sun caressed the blue, blue sky, the fire in his self ignited hotter, hotter.

a thundering began.

earthquakes shook the ground.

as blaine was flung to the earth, he looked up and he perceived a knight in polished brass armour, riding a spirited steed, that charged up the mountaintop. he was nearly half-way, when calmly the knight turned his horse, and rode down the mountain again.

blaine ran to meet him. he jumped up and down in front of him, waving his hands excitedly. "sir knight! sir knight!"

"madam," the knight said. she reined in, and raised her visor. her skin was the color of the brass, tinted a golden-yellow with her eyes angled upward at the sides.

"yes?" she asked. her voice was modulated, and smooth. "what is it?"

"how did you get up the mountain?" blaine asked, his eyes wide.

"my horse, Michael, and g-g-goodwill," the knight replied, and patted her horse on its side. the horse swayed and did a sudden sidestep, flicking the knight with its tail. the knight laughed. "yes, goodwill."

"i wish to try to climb the mountain," blaine said. "have you any advice to offer me?"

"oh, yes," said the knight. "this i warn you: to gain the castle you must have perseverance, belief, confidence, and luck. but moreover - in the grove of apple trees, there is one which grows golden blossoms and fruit. place the apple's golden peel inside your wounds, and you will be healed."

"thank you," blaine said graciously, and stood apart. the knight pressed her knees into her steed's side, and rode off into the distance.

three days before the seven years would be over.

blaine planned and planned again, sharpening the swords that he found, but not one would give purchase to the glass mountain's side.

a thundering began.

earthquakes shook the earth, and flung blaine to the ground.

he managed to let go of the sword he was holding before it killed him, however.

a knight, armoured with the finest silver, rode up the glass mountain. blaine stared in amazement, as the steed trod the glass as though it had been level earth, and from its horseshoes sparks of fire flew. when he was three quarters up, the knight turned his horse back down the mountain.

blaine ran to meet him, waving his arms and jumping up and down.

"sir knight! sir knight!" he called. "attend, please!"

"madam, if you please," the knight said. she reined her steed in, her gestures moving with a great flourish even though her steed, large and placid, halted without making fuss.

with great deliberation, the knight's horse lowered its head and began to graze.

as the knight raised her visor, blaine could see that she rolled her eyes.

"yes?" the knight said. "who calls?"

"a schoolboy," blaine said. "one who wishes to climb the mountain."

"well, you can't," the knight said. "only i can."

blaine looked down. "even if i cannot, i intend to try. i am no competition for you, lady."

"a good attitude," the lady knight nodded. "and, as you so easily see the truth, i will give you advice unasked."

(secretly blaine thought that this lady knight would have given him advice wil he or nil he, but he refrained from voicing his thought.)

"at the top of the hill is an eagle. it is he who guards the mountain and guards the castle. he hunts the mountain for knights, and knocks them off. there they tumble, until they lie dying. avoid the eagle. however, the eagle knows the secret parts and the good parts of the mountain, so if you can, follow the eagle."

the lady knight nodded, mounted her horse, and kneed it into movement.

her horse grunted, continued to chew its grass, shrugged its shoulders, and began to bear her away, probably much slower than she would have liked, judging from her muttered curses.

"...Hurry up, Finn..."

blaine sat down on the ground and tried to figure out the way of the advice the lady knight had given him. it seemed to contradict himself, but he got the sense that of that lady, she contradicted herself fairly often.

two days before the seven years would be over.

today blaine did not try anything. he had the beginnings of a plan glimmering in his mind, the sights of the Prince gave him determination, and he was happy, brave, and strong; fortune would smile upon him, or he would die trying.

and besides, tales came in groups of three.

when the thundering began, blaine sat down.

thus he did not have far to fall when the earthquakes began.

this time a knight dressed in the strongest, layered gold on a spirited steed trotted toward the mountain.

blaine flung himself to his feet and charged toward the knight, waving his arms and jumping up and down while running.

"sir knight! sir knight!"

"madam," the knight said, and reined her horse in. the horse puffed.

and then rolled its eyes.

it also had a very narrow mane, as if the stallion's proud mane had been shaven.

when the lady knight raised her visor, she also lifted off her helmet. from her head unfolded locks of the finest blonde hair, gold in the light of the caressing sun.

her horse pawed at the ground, impatiently.

"be still, Puck," the lady knight said, and pressed her knees together.

the horse's eyes widened, and he remained perfectly still.

"madam knight," blaine said, "have you any advice on how i might climb this mountain?"

the lady knight judged him with her eyes and reflexively rubbed her stomach.

"once, i had a child just like you," she whispered.

"madam?" blaine asked, not catching what she had said.

"i will give you this advice," the knight said.

"to the east of here, some hours' walk, there is a gryphon who lives in a forest. when i first met it, as a little girl, he had eyes of the sun and the sky. lately..." she hesitated, and brought her gauntleted hand up to wipe at her eyes.

"lately, he no longer recognises me; his eyes are red and milky, and he is angry. he said to me once - 'when i no longer can speak to you, kill me, for i will have fallen to the Witch's curse'. but i could not bring myself to do so. perhaps you will."

her breathing uneven, she kneed her steed back into movement, and the steed ran up the slope, great muscles heaving to gain speed. and fire, plumes of blue and yellow and pink and orange-red fire, like a phoenix arising, billowed from its feet, until she almost reached the summit.

blaine followed her with his eyes, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

a great eagle roused out of the grove at the summit and flew at her. its wings spread, and it cried a sound of despair and regret.

the horse reared up in surprise and shock, and its hind hooves slipped, and she tumbled down the hill with her horse until there was nothing left recognizable of them but battered golden armor. and like everything else, blood came down the mountain.

blaine cast his gaze aside and began the trek to the forest in the east.

* * *

the gryphon slept in a clearing.

blaine crept up to it, and tapped it very gently. it seemed wise to do so; sir gryphon, if he be intelligent, would wake calmly; it would not be prudent to go in sword slaying only to make sir gryphon, nice and gentle, kill him in a bid for survival. no, it would not do.

...alas.

the gryphon sprang, fully mad, its eyes pits of red flame, blinded by white pustules. the gryphon swung its great claws and bellowed outrage, what sounded like sibilant words mixed in among the great cry.

"sir gryphon! sir gryphon!" cried blaine, and ducked;

a great claw swung at the noise and nearly decapitated the schoolboy.

blaine flung himself to the side.

"oh, sir gryphon," quoth blaine, "will you not reason with me? i would have you with eyes of sun and sky again, so that i did not have reason to kill you. for you are a magnificent specimen of beast - waugh!"

and here blaine rolled upon the ground, eating mouthfuls of mud in the process, as the gryphon's great wings unfurled and thumped, once, twice, with enough force to strike a horse lame or a full man grown dead to the ground.

"sir gryphon! sir gryphon!" cried blaine.

as blaine rolled backward, showing flexibility that no other schoolboy could have managed, he noted that the gryphon's wings were torn, that with that great wound the gryphon could no longer claw the sunny skies. yet the wings still flapped, and the great muscles in its legs were coiling in preparation for a jump.

"oh, fuck," quoth blaine, and hid behind a tree.

the gryphon sprang. claws upraised, it plunged into the forest.

having great presence of mind, blaine gripped its shoulder as it flew past, and straddled the gryphon until he could ride it.

he did not close his eyes for he would have fallen off. but he wished to, to contemplate the enormity of what he was about to do.

he drew his sword.

what follows is, dear reader, not something that - no matter how forward-thinking we may be - we wish to expose our children to. there is a certain practice in child-raising that involves the letting of blood, and there is of course a certain honesty in killing or putting down animals for meat or fur or some other purpose, though that is rather behind in these modern days. but what blaine did to that gryphon, great noble beast of its kind, does not bear thinking about.

all i will say is that, in great determination but no incredible sword skills, he caused havoc.

blaine rolled off the beast's great back and cleaned his blade off on the forest's grass, breathing harshly. the sun had fallen to hang just above the distant forests and hills, above which the glass mountain's top towered over.

"attend me, boy," a voice whispered, pain streaking its every syllable. clutching his hold onto his sword, blaine stole to the front of the gryphon, where the eagle's head rested upon his lion's claws.

"boy," the gryphon asked again, his voice stronger. "what is your name?"

"blaine," blaine said, looking up into the eyes of sunrise over sea and clear sky, and falling to his knees, "a lady knight with hair of spun gold sent me."

"quinn..." the gryphon breathed, and bowed its great head. "i thank you, blaine son of orzel, for giving me this parting gift. quinn could not, in the end, stomach this feat, then. i understand." his voice was lower, quieter.

"come, what news of her, then, blaine son of orzel?"

blaine hesitated.

"no. No. NO."

"yessss," blaine said. "she ascended the mountain on a steed of bright gold, gold as her hair, but the eagle flared its wings and she fell down the mountain and-"

the gryphon bowed his head, and tears leaked from his eyes. "for this saddening news, i will give you answers unasked."

on the top of the glass hill is a grove of apple trees. some say that it may heal any wound. but it also breaks - it breaks the Witch's curse. the Witch's curse where eyes turn milk-and-red. there are three of us whom the Witch cursed; myself, a dragon, and the eagle. indeed, the eagle's greatest torment bar one is that his salvation is so close behind him. the dragon's, that bar one her closest kin is prevented from love, and myself, whose greatest torment bar one is no longer seeing my kin.

"of my greatest torment you shall never know. of the dragon's greatest torment, you shall have to ask her. of the eagle's greatest torment-" the gryphon gave him a stare, which softened as time passed. "you do not know, boy blaine, son of orzel?"

"know? what?"

"for if you do not know, i cannot tell you."

blaine pursed his lips, for his heart broke at these creatures' great tortures, but bowed.

"it has...pleased me to be in the presence of your company," blaine said, "though i would have wished that we were better met."

"and likewise," the gryphon said. "uuunghhh-"

* * *

"boy," the gryphon said. "my time is short. when i am gone, cut my claws from my paws and bind it with feathers from my wings. my feathers will bend; bind them to your hands and to your legs, and climb up the mountainside."

"yes," blaine said.

"and," the gryphon said. "once upon a time," he said, his voice weakening by the second, pain streaking him more and more. "once upon a time, son of orzel, i was a man too. i had a son, a beautiful, beautiful son...and his name was Byrt."

blaine nodded and bowed his head.

"i believe in you," the gryphon said. "take care of my grandson."

the gryphon's beak gaped open and he gave a soft sigh and the light went out behind the gryphon's eyes of sun and sky.

blaine found himself sobbing as he carefully cut the gryphon's claws and pierced the muscle of its wings.

* * *

the sun came up, bright gold streamers against the tentative blue of the clear sky. clouds gathered just out of view.

blaine rubbed his eyes; the glass of the mountain reflected iridescent, the patterns splaying on the grass and the earth and the graves. he readied himself and cast his rucksack aside. if he died upon the mountain, he would not need it. and it would only weigh him down.

he walked to the edge of the mountain of glass and struck it, and the claw of the gryphon stuck fast. another hand, another foot, and blaine andersen son of orzel climbed the mountain.

each sight of the Prince in the windows of the castle above spurred his climb, for he knew that it was the last day before the Witch would come, and take his Prince away.  
strike by strike he climbed, until the feather bindings slipped on his hands and the jagged edge of the claws bit into his skin.

blood, like everything else, comes down the mountain.

strike after strike he climbed.

strike after strike he climbed.

strike after strike he climbed.

the sun was nearly going down. when he looked into the deep recesses of the mountain, it glowed with shifting light, as though a sun were contained in the mountain's heart itself...or that a sun, a heart of a sun, were being born there.

strike after strike he climbed.

strike after strike he climbed.

strike after strike he climbed.

he could hardly draw breath. he was so worn out his arms were shaking, his legs were useless. his mouth was parched by thirst.

a great black cloud passed overhead.

"a drop of water!" he cawed. "a drop of water, damn you!"

but the great black cloud passed over him and vanished beyond.

(somewhere in his heart, he knew he had just insulted the cloud. somewhere in his heart, something quailed.)

his feet were torn and bleeding. evening closed in around him, until only the distant stars lit up the great glass mountain.

he gazed below him. what a sight met his eyes! a yawning abyss, with miles of death and decay. that is what awaited him at the bottom, should he make a single error.

but he knew he would not make that error now, for he had no strength to continue.

seeing no hope, he calmly awaited death. he raised his head slowly. if he were to die here, he wished his last sight to be of the castle, and of the Prince.

then his exhaustion caught him and bore him away, and he knew no more. but the gryphon's claws now worked their magic, digging in deeper until he was safe as not to fall.

* * *

now the apple-tree grove was guarded by the giant eagle which had overthrown the knight with the golden armour. every night it flew around the glass mountain keeping a careful look-out, and no sooner had the moon emerged from the clouds that he rose from the apple tree, and circling round in the air, caught sight of the youth.

the eagle's eyes were red and milky, but a hint of his true eyes came forth as he watched the slumbering boy. the blindness spread over his eyes again, and he dove in to grasp the boy in his claws.

his claws bit through lovingly-sewn fabric and plunged into young flesh. from the pain, blaine's eyes opened.

the eagle! the eagle of the silver knight's advice! blaine bore the pain of the claws and clutched to the eagle's feet. in terror the mighty eagle with the red-white eyes soared into the sky, and carried blaine around the Glass Mountain, once, twice.

blaine saw in its entirety, through the haze of pain, the glittering palace. and through one window, he saw the Prince himself lost in sad thoughts.

when the eagle had carried him above the grove of apple trees, blaine seized his short sword and cut off the eagle's feet. the bird rose up into the air in agony and vanished into the clouds; and blaine fell into the grove of apple trees, the claws in him lacerating him from the fall.

the apples, the brass knight's apples.

with shaky hands blaine peeled the skin of the golden apples he found. he drew the claws out from his flesh and placed the skin of a golden apple inside his wound. in one moment all his wounds were healed and well again. he bit into the golden apple, and at once he found it juicy and succulent, until he did not thirst nor hunger, nor was he fatigued.

he plucked three more golden apples and tucked them into his pocket. biting into the red and green apples, he ascended the branches toward the Prince's castle.

* * *

the door opened and red and milk eyes blinked slowly, open in the darkness.

they blinked reptilian, closing and opening.

blaine scrambled backward as the dragon roared in frustration, in pain.

what the gryphon had said-

fumbling for the pouch at his waist, blaine flung a golden apple at the dragon's maw.

and the eyes were the color of jade, jade where the dragon itself emerged violet, jade deep and murky.

"who are you?" the dragon asked. "you have freed me."

"blaine," blaine said, dropping to one knee.

"blaine, son of orzel?" the dragon said.

"yes," blaine said.

those great, sad eyes looked over him. "you are unharmed...did you break the spell upon the eagle?"

"no..." blaine said. "i cut off its feet."

the eyes opened in shock, before they narrowed again, and abruptly tears, great fat tears, came spilling down the dragon's face.

"oh, dear," the dragon said. "oh, dear."

"what?" blaine asked.

"blood, like everything else, comes down the mountain."

* * *

"great dragon," blaine said. "the gryphon at the base of the mountain told me to ask you what your greatest torment is."

the dragon smiled at him with its eyes and backed into the castle.

"come in, and i shall show you."

his hand on his pouch and his other on his sword, blaine entered the castle.

"kyrt," the dragon called, rearing up to place its claws on the balcony of the Prince's tower. "your troubles are over. your prince is here."

"ah-i am no prince-" blaine said. the dragon fixed him with a look.

he shut up.

the Prince appeared at the window. the dragon lifted him in its claws and gently set him down on the ground.

"what is your name?" kyrt asked, his eyes wide with wonder and his lips, delectable lips, forming each letter.

"blaine," blaine said.

"blaine," kyrt said, and blaine blessed the heavens and his father and his mother for naming him such, for what other name could be so heavenly bar 'kyrt' itself?

the dragon coiled around them. her side was warm, warm.

"mother," kyrt said. "i have missed you."

the dragon fixed blaine with its great green eyes and huffed, once.

blaine knew then the dragon's greatest torment.

* * *

the sun rose.

at the break of dawn, the Witch appeared.

"what?" she cried. "dragon! how did you break my spell!"

the dragon shifted. "i don't believe i have to say."

"no, no, this won't do," the Witch said. "porcelain, you get your ass out here and tell me to my face that you've found a new piggy playpen partner."

kyrt stuck his head out of his mother's coils. "i've got a new piggy playpen partner, Witch Sylvester."

"kyrt!" his mother said, a little scared. "don't stick your tongue out at the Witch!"

"so who is this boy or girl, hm?"

blaine clambered his way up to greet the Witch.

"you."

"me?" blaine asked. "what of me?"

"tell me," the Witch said. "does your father know you are here?"

"...yes?" the schoolboy said.

"did you break the curse on the eagle as you did with the dragon and the gryphon?"

"what-"

"if!" the Witch cried. "if i cannot have you, kyrt, i will have your boytoy's happiness!" and with a laugh, the Witch vanished.

and blaine the schoolboy gave an apple to his Prince for his first gift, and buried the last of his apples in the ground, where no apple tree sprouted and grew and blossomed or fruited, but that is another story.

* * *

what follows between blaine and kyrt is quite a lot of romance and depression and self-pity and hatred and redemption (as well as the glass mountain lowering day by day by day, bit by bit), but it's all quite mushy stuff and children don't like reading or hearing mushy stuff anyway, but blood and gore is quite all right.

and so i'll tell you that when the eagle flew away from the schoolboy, his blood, like everything else, came down the mountain. his eyes were red and milky but his duty was still crystal-clear in his mind. two knights, charging up the mountain, he battered with his wings, until they came down the mountain all clashed together, recognizable only by the battered silver and bent brass.

but the blood of the eagle woke the dead from their graves, gave them flesh and breath and life, and all the great warriors from kingdoms around had blaine son of orzel to thank for their lives.

and the brass knight and the silver knight and the gold knight were those who owed blaine son of orzel, and they rode up the glass mountain (what was left of it) in earthquakes and thunder and fire.

the eagle himself flew to a little house in the woods, fleeing in rage and pain.

* * *

when the sun rose and the Witch disappeared, never to return, the eagle sank to the ground in front of the house. a man rushed out of the house, as did a woman, but as they looked to each other they each knew the eagle had no hope.

and the mighty eagle spread his wings for one last time and spoke.

"dear orzel," the eagle said.

"dear eagle," orzel said.

"are you ready?" the eagle said, its wise old eyes blinking through a haze.

"i have been ready since we were parted," orzel said, his wise old eyes full of pain.

"...yes," orzel's wife said, her voice shaking. she shut her eyes. "please, mighty eagle. please tell us. does blaine lie dead by the mountainside?"

"no," the eagle said. his great eyes opened, tawny yellow with hazel specks. "be at ease. the dragon has him now. the Witch! ah, the Witch! she is gone! the scheming Witch is gone!"

"a cause for celebration," orzel's wife said, and sank to her knees to embrace the eagle. "ah, eagle..."

"my love," the eagle said, and folded a wing around her. "how i have missed you."

"my love," orzel said, and folded his arm about her. "we are ready."

she nodded and closed her eyes.

orzel laid his other hand on the eagle's head. the eagle wrapped his other wing around orzel and both blinked their wise, old eyes and then there was no orzel and no eagle, but simply truth.

* * *

"what is that?" kyrt asked, as in the horizon auroras bloomed, blue and yellow and pink and orange-red.

blaine's heart rose into his throat and tears filled his eyes.

"the death...and the birth...of a phoenix."

"your mother is happy," the dragon said, softly. "your father is happy."

* * *

for what is a phoenix, but a wise old eagle who loved a spirit that had fire run through her, and what is a phoenix, but a wise old eagle on fire?

* * *

when the glass mountain had at last faded, warriors and princes and princesses from other kingdoms came to give their regards and their well-wishes.

with the treasure lining the walls of the castle and the values that his parents had taught him, blaine grew to become a powerful, wise ruler, and the Prince his lover became his anchor, his rock to the sanities of the world.

(oh, there was more to that story, but children do not like mushy stuff, no?)

* * *

but:

upon kyrt's deathbed kyrt asked the gold knight and the brass knight and the silver knight, all who had sworn fealty to him and to king blaine, to keep watch over king blaine and make him happy at all costs.

and the knights bowed their heads and their steeds bowed their heads and acquiesced.

but when his Prince passed, king blaine followed soon after.

he called to them once, when he was limp and looking up at the sky, the sunrise sky streaming gold over clear blue, kyrt's favorite horse, white with a mane of gold, pacing beside them.

"swear to me," blaine said, this once-schoolboy, still strong of heart and brave and kind, "swear to me, that when i pass you will find men just like me and make them happy. make them find their true loves."

"yes," the knight of gold said. "yes, sire. we shall do as you say."

"yes," the knight of silver said. "you can count on me if not anyone else." and she flicked her hair back over her shoulder.

"yes," the knight of brass said. "we will achieve this."

"good," king blaine said, and slept.

in his dreams kyrt, his eyes of autumn sky, came to him again for the last time, and bore him into the forests where kyrt played and lived and was born, son of a dragon. and blaine with his eyes of sunset followed, his fire raging within him, son of a phoenix, and laughed and played, and they were boys again, and somewhere, somewhere, they were together in an eternity of fire and glass.

* * *

and here is this final truth:

the lady knights found many men and bound them to their loves. they found many women and found them to their loves. and time passed, and the lady knights themselves were mortal, alas.

so when the lady knights at long last gave up their search, their steeds rose up and were once more mortal man. they bore them away with them to the river where youth lies and laid them inside and lay with them, and then bore them away to where youth is eternal.

they plucked the armor from their ladies' shoulders and bore those on their backs.

stallions again, the three steeds looked at each other and shrugged.

"well, we did swear," said the brass knight's horse.

"let's go," said the silver knight's horse.

the gold knight's horse rolled his eyes.

three steeds galloped into the unknown, into the land between lands, into the time between times.

* * *

the brass knight's horse said, "don't lie, puck. you've been wanting to get some ass since quinn cut you off as a human...the first time. and you did like that Prince altogether too much. i saw you watching."

the silver knight's horse favored them both with narrowed eyes and pawed at the ground. "i'm bigger than the both of you. stop talking about my brother like that."

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**Writing Notes (that both beta and muse have not seen): **_'orzel' _is Polish for 'eagle'. Why did I choose to use that? The Glass Mountain tale is like Cinderella...well, actually, no it's not, the _other _fairytale involving a glass mountain is like cinderella. But the above is basically a retelling of a Polish folktale, and Orzel is something of a tribute to the original. Do note however that Blaine's father being the eagle is _not _in the original folktale.

There is a companion piece already written for this, but it is _much _more adult-oriented...and slashy. When I post it up, it'll be under M.

Reviews?


End file.
